Brian Jay Jones's Blog, page 26

Thank You.

Somehow, this video seems entirely appropriate for Veterans Day — or, at least, I hope it is. Thank you, all you wonderful ladies and gentlemen, who gave — and give — so much.

Remembering Ted Sorensen (1928-2010)

Ted Sorensen — Presidential adviser, ghostwriter, biographer, and perhaps the finest political speechwriter in modern times — passed away yesterday at the age of 82. There's a nice piece on him in The Boston Globe right here.

Sorensen — who often joked that his last name would be misspelled as "Sorenson" in his obituary (it wasn't) — was not only one of the guiding hands behind Kennedy's famous inaugural speech, but also collaborated on Kennedy's Pulitzer Prize-winning Profiles in Courage. He was a classy guy who treated his work as a speechwriter and ghostwriter exactly the way one should: when asked which turns of phrase he was responsible for, Sorensen always deferred to his boss –

Is the author the person who did much of the research and helped choose the words in many of its sentences, or is the author the person who decided the substance, structure, and theme of the book; read and revised each draft; inspired, constructed, and improved the work? Like JFK's speeches, 'Profiles in Courage' was a collaboration. . .  [ultimately], I know exactly where the credit ultimately lies — with JFK.

Nice.

Sorensen was also one of the first biographers of Kennedy, publishing Kennedy in 1965.

I'm sorry he's gone, but I'm sure glad he was here.  You probably didn't know his name or his face, but you definitely knew his words.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween from Muppet Labs!

Yellow Leaves and Red Books

Wow, has it really been more than two weeks since I last posted here?  Sorry to leave you hanging.  Apart from book work, we've been enjoying the fall, cleaning up the yard and flower beds, and preparing for Halloween.  Given our schedule this year (including Madi's incredibly busy volleyball schedule, where's she's starting on the varsity squad as a freshman  – yeah, we're pretty proud of her, too), we won't make it to Sleepy Hollow for the first time in several years, so we're decking out our place appropriately, including these two fellows near our back door:

Rest in pieces.

On a different note . . . if you're a Jim Henson fan and you're not reading the daily excerpts from Jim Henson's Red Book . . . well, for shame, Doc, for shame.  What is the Red Book, you ask?  At the end of each year, Jim Henson would go through his personal calendar and write down in his red notebook everything that had happened during the previous year — or, at least, what he thought was interesting.  It's a fascinating (and, oftentimes, funny) document — not quite a diary, but more than just a simple listing of events. Think of it this way: if Jim were alive today, these are the kinds of things he might put up on a Twitter feed.

Anyway, over at the Jim Henson Company, crack archivist Karen Falk is putting up daily entries — corresponding to actual dates, meaning if today is October 29, then she'll put up an entry from October 29 — and, where appropriate or helpful, providing a bit of background.

Go get it — and if you're on Facebook or Twitter, subscribe to it for daily updates. It's fun.  Trust me.

R.I.P. Carla Cohen (1936-2010)

I was saddened this morning to learn that Carla Cohen — one of the co-founders of Politics & Prose, just about the coolest independent bookstore out there — passed away yesterday at age 74.  The Washington Post obituary is right here.

Politics & Prose — like Powell's in Oregon — is one of great meccas for independent bookstore lovers.  It's a place nearly every aspiring author — especially authors of non-fiction — wants to speak, especially on the off-chance that C-SPAN will be there to record the talk for broadcast.  It's a place that's unapologetically nerdy and erudite and just a bit eclectic.  Its clientele don't come in looking for science fiction or romance novels; they want books of wonky politics, literary history, or economics.

I had the great pleasure of meeting Carla Cohen and her business partner, Barbara Meade, when I spoke about Washington Irving at P&P in early 2008.  She cared deeply about books, and even more about readers.  She'll be missed.

Happy Birthday, John Lennon

You're still missed. Perhaps more than ever.

Sensational, Inspirational

…and hello again.  I'm back from a week-long visit to New York *, where I spent several days buried in the archives at the Jim Henson Company — and if you're at all a fan of Jim Henson or the Muppets, then you can imagine just how much fun that is.  (But really,  take the amount of fun that you think it is, then multiply it by ten, and you've got a much better idea of the Actual Fun Level.)

The archives themselves are physically located in the company's new digs out on Long Island — needing more space, they moved from Manhattan a while ago.  As I was staying in Brooklyn, I had to travel to Long Island City by subway every day — and I've gotta tell you, even though I've taken the subway in several cities around the world, for some reason, I was terrified of taking the New York subway.  I was worried I would have no idea how to purchase tickets or use the system — and meanwhile, in my befuddlement, I would be clogging up the system, blocking the way for New Yorkers trying to commute into the city who would now be late and surely fired because I was costing then two minutes.  Yeah, I'm a mess that way.

Fortunately, Agent J was kind enough to lend a hand and show me that it was actually really easy — and it was — and I'm pleased to say I took the subway regularly with no problems at all except for (1) missing my stop one day when I wasn't paying attention, and (2) burning several dollars when I mistakenly entered on the wrong side of the platform and had to exit and re-enter (and thus pay again) on the other side of the street.

Each day, then, I would take the R train, as it made its hour-long trip from Brooklyn and boomeranged off Manhattan to curve into Queens.  Here's my stop each day — 36th Street, near Northern Boulevard:

The Subway stop near the Jim Henson Company. Yes, it really was that quiet.

After exiting the subway, it's just a brief walk up the street toward the Jim Henson Company — which is located in this unassuming white building right here:

Now, don't be fooled by this building's rather industrial facade.  It's like Clark Kent: behind the plain blue suit and nerdy glasses lies something wonderful.  Go through these doors, take the freight elevator up several floors, and when the door comes rumbling open, you'll see a simple white sign (among a sea of similar square signs) that lets you know you're in the right place:

The Jim Henson Company takes up a long stretch of space at the end of the fourth floor, wide enough so that both sides of the workshop are lined with windows.  There's a long wooden meeting table just inside the front door — with a Skeksis throne in one corner — and just behind the ornate (and now unoccupied) reception desk (with a Kermit phone sitting on top of it) is a wonderful, life-size photo of Jim, Frank Oz, Jerry Nelson, Richard Hunt, and Carroll Spinney performing on Sesame Street. Beyond that, the workshop stretches out as far as you can see, weaving its way around large white pillars that march up the center of the space.

And what a space it is.  Several Elmos sit on a table for adjustment.  Miss Piggy waits patiently on another bench as a number of incredibly talented people sew her new costumes. Snuffleupagus hangs from a rack for repair and restoration. A young woman glues feathers to a Muppet arm.  Classic rock vibrates from a boombox on a middle workbench as two craftspeople cut and glue and sew in front of a wall of plastic drawers with labels on them like "Monster Fur" and "Eyes." The magic you see on the screen of any Jim Henson production is due to the hard work of these master craftsmen, and I'm humbled, and a bit intimidated, at being in their presence.  So I try to stay out of their way.

Meanwhile, I'm in good hands as Archivist Karen Falk (and her awesome assistant Crystal) brings me box after box of materials, which I spread out on a desk in the workspace they've generously provided for me — a quiet side office, lined with windows overlooking Long Island.  Here's a bit of my mess as I worked one morning, poring over scripts, receipts and correspondence:

By Friday, like a kid in an amusement park, I was wishing I had just one more minute to keep reading before I had to catch my train back to Maryland.  It may be too ambitious to try to emulate Neal Gabler — who allegedly read every page contained in the Walt Disney archives for his spectacular Walt Disney: The Triumph of the American Imagination – but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna try.  I'll be back soon.

  * Actually, I was there the week of September 27, but haven't the chance to blog about it until today…

Happy Birthday, Jim Henson!

Seventy-four years ago, the world became a sillier, brighter, and better place.

"My hope still is to leave the world a bit better than when I got here." – Jim Henson

Happy Birthday, Jim Henson.

Southern Charm

I'm coming to you today from my hotel room in Greenville, Mississippi, where the view out my window — once you overlook the roof of the casino just below — is of the wonderfully swampy Mississippi delta region.  Over the tops of the cypress trees, I can just see the braces of a brand new bridge spanning the Mississippi River. And while it was a seasonably cool 65 degrees when I left Maryland on Monday, it's still hovering in the mid-90s, making me wish I'd packed something other than...

A Hint, and Scent, of Autumn

As I was driving along one of the rural, two-lane state highways that we use to get around in our corner of Maryland, I noticed a few trees starting to change color.  Nothing splashy or flashy yet — no explosive reds or oranges — but some yellowing at the corners, and a bit of browning.  It doesn't seem like it's time to make the turn into fall, and yet it really is mid-September.

Apart from the leaves, though, there are several sure signs it's really autumn — and depending on where you live, ...